


Finding a Side Story

by DarthAnimus



Series: This Is Who You Are [2]
Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Aster POV for FPoaL, Behind the Scenes, Implied Pooka Jack Frost, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-05
Updated: 2015-04-18
Packaged: 2018-03-21 10:32:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3688923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarthAnimus/pseuds/DarthAnimus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Assorted scenes set at ambiguous points during 'Finding Pieces of a Life'. Starts off as very accessible and stand-alone-ish, but call-backs to the main story will show up in later parts.</p>
<p>Jackrabbit Easter 2015 Themes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Home

Aster had been questioned about his Pookan heritage before. North, Tooth and Katherine had all been very interested to learn about him when he’d first joined the Guardians. As such, Jack having questions on the subject wasn’t completely unfamiliar territory. In fact, Aster was quite certain he was even reacting to it better now than he had back then (he’d been a hermit and liked it that way; _of course_ he’d be a jerk about any questions). This theory seemed especially truthful when you considered the fact that none of the other Guardians had unlimited access to the Warren and barely limited options to ask questions about it.

Jack seemed to love asking questions. Aster had wondered whether or not it was the result of the spirit having lived in isolation for so long, but he also acknowledged that Jack was very curious by nature.

There was one time when the lead-up was rather strange however. It was on a day that Aster had been planning out egg designs and Jack had swooped around the Warren, seeming to be attempting to get a look at as many things at once as possible. The winter spirit had landed right next to Aster, bent down in a way that human bodies shouldn’t bend, and commented: “The Warren’s really big.”

“It took me centuries to dig it,” Aster replied, still nonplussed. “Good thing it turned out that it wasn’t a wasted effort, since my plants need the space.”

Jack frowned in thought, straightening to get a look around the broad expanse. “Did you build the houses I saw too?”

Aster smirked at the winter spirit. “Who else could have?”

Jack turned back to Aster sitting n a crouch on the ground, staying pointedly upright himself as he said: “I just wondered, since they look _lived in_.”

Aster shrugged. “They’re my old houses.” Honestly, it was no big deal. North had about a dozen private workshops back at the Pole, as well as other rooms that had grown so cluttered that he’d had to expand the thing.

Jack’s face scrunched up in a way that brought his lips almost to his nose, an expression that Aster sometimes saw in the mirror. Did humans make that sort of face often? It was so Pooka-ish.

“And now you lost me.” Jack rubbed his head, still making that face. “Was there something wrong with them?”

“Not wrong so much as I grew bored with them.” Aster shrugged again. “Most spirits live a long time and prefer large homes with enough space to keep us entertained for centuries.” Which explained North’s ever-expanding Workshop, Tooth’s colourfully painted palace and Sandy’s own sand construct abodes that never stayed the same two days a row. Much like Sandy, Bunny enjoyed simpler things he could build, and said ruefully: “But I also enjoy huts.”

“So you build a new one whenever you get bored?” Jack asked incredulously, gripping at his hair (Aster had long ago grabbed his own ears like that whenever he’d felt frustrated or anxious). “I can’t say I approve.”

Aster huffed. “I rarely need anyone’s approval when I do anything.” Maybe he was being defensive. Maybe it was because for some reason Jack kept _reminding_ him of things today.

“It just seems so wasteful,” Jack blurted out.

Aster looked him over, and felt his brief flash of anger vane. “If it’s any consolation, it’s a habit I’ve mostly grown out of.”

Jack crossed his arms, shepherd’s hook tucked under his elbow, and smirked like he was at least partially waiting for Aster to drop a punch line. “Really now?”

“Fair dinkum.” Aster smirked. “I actually stopped doing it after I joined the Guardians.” “The missions and friends invading my space guaranteed that I got enough changes in scenery since then.”

Jack laughed at the admission, and Aster was sure that Jack was as aware as Aster himself was at that moment that regardless what he said on the subject, Aster had given Jack permission to be here.

Jack uncrossed his arms and twirled his staff. “Is that so?” He pointed the tip of the staff towards the general direction of the colour river. “What about the flower arrangements, then?”

Aster wasn’t bothered by the insinuation and spread his hands. “The occasional change in décor is good for me.”

“Most people change their curtains when they want to change in décor,” Jack said with an extremely unimpressed expression.”

“It’s the same principle,” Aster insisted. “The houses are just houses to me. Something to fill the space with, to keep things in and occasionally to sleep in.” He wasn’t about to pretend that Jack wasn’t aware of his sporadic sleeping patterns. “The Warren as a whole is my ‘home’.”

Jack hummed thoughtfully, before querying: “You like the wide, open spaces?”

“I don’t much care for being trapped inside the same set of walls for an eternity.” Aster wasn’t sure if Jack would get _that_ allusion, but it was out now. It was the closest Aster would ever get to professing being something of a free spirit.

There was a wistful expression on Jack’s face. “I know the feeling,” the winter spirit confessed before he dropped down, landing down to sit cross-legged in front of Aster. “Back home, ‘home’ wasn’t just the house, but the fields around it as well.”

It was rare for Jack to tell Aster about his family, about the memories he’d been so intent to recover. Usually Jack was all about asking questions, not answering them. Unable to pass up the chance to learn more, Aster prompted: “Were your parents farmers?”

“Pretty much.” Jack nodded. “These days they’d call my mom a florist and my dad a pharmacist.” “They specialized their plantations in order to make them as diverse as possible.” The winter spirit placed his shepherd’s hook across his lap and leaned over closer to Aster. “You said you followed in your mom’s footsteps. Was fighting the family trade?”

Of course Jack would turn the question right around. Hoping his reluctance to discuss the subject wasn’t apparent, he said: “The family trade was influence. We were warriors or scholars or socialites of the highest calibre.” Thinking he sounded a bit too bitter (even for him), Aster attempted for levity as he carried on: “Except Hollyhock, who was a career layabout.” The Pooka smirked. “The hollyhocks here on Earth are like him, pretty but ultimately useless.”

Jack laughed again, for the second time due to a joke Aster had told. The winter spirit gave the Pooka a shrewd look before speaking: “The more I think about it, the more convinced I get that you named all those plants _on purpose_ , and not on accident like you claim.”

“The humans named the plants,” Aster answered, completely deadpan.

“So you deny any influence?” Jack shot back, completely unconvinced.

“No comment.” Aster lifted his hands in surrender, not about to debate the mechanics of his connection to the plant life on Earth. “But, back to your own preference for wide spaces. Is that why you’re a vagabond?”

Jack stared at Aster for a startled moment before snorting a laugh. The winter spirit shook his head before murmuring. “I doubt anyone actually calls it that anymore.” He grinned. “Partially, I guess. For me, home’s more the people I’m with than the location.”

Aster recalled that Jack hadn’t had people to be with for a while, that he’d been homeless twice over. “You’ve got a lot of friends these days,” he said out loud. “That’s quite the few homes.”

“Some feel more like home than others,” Jack said and, while the comment was flippant and even a touch equivocal, the fond look he shot Aster was anything but.


	2. Hunting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eucalyptus and Nightlight are on the hunt, and Eucalyptus' thoughts get away from him.

The ellipsoid space ship was roaming through space on cruising speed. The ironic thing about that was that this was the farthest the passengers could get from a cruise. They were chasing down Kozmotis Pitchiner, now calling himself Pitch Black, and yet they didn't force the ship to go as fast as it could. The reason for this was because they needed to constantly see the space around them. They were hunting.

There was a very specific reason why Eucalyptus hadn't used Pookan technology to simply Tunnel himself to the other end of the race to cut Pitch off. Pitch's army had to be taken care of first. Eucalyptus had vowed to himself that he'd hunt down every single Fearling that he could before they reached the evacuation coordinates several galaxies away. By the time Pitch reached his goal, there'd be no army to back him up. And then Eucalyptus would have him, and avenge the entire Golden Age that had crumbled because of Pitch.

Then he'd find Jackfruit.

A Runaway Thought the ship passed burst into an explosion of pink, scattering silver glitter all around. The other passenger of the small ship twirled his chair to look over at Eucalyptus.

"The Runaway Thoughts must have picked up a nice thought to get so lively," Nightlight murmured, his voice as soft as the glow of moonlight. "What were you thinking about?"

Nightlight, frankly, unnerved Eucalyptus. Not because he was similar to the ruling house Lunanoff in appearance, but because he was of the same species as Kozmotis Pitchiner. The Pookas had always been loyal to the Tsar Lunar, but it was the Tsar's general who'd destroyed their entire civilisation. Understandably Eucalyptus had been reluctant to trust him when they'd met.

However, it was the involuntary reactions of the starmatter, like the Runaway Thoughts that had given Eucalyptus' gentler thoughts away, that had proven to Eucalyptus that Nightlight was telling the truth when he insisted that he was the infant prince's bodyguard. The light of space had mirrored the shy warrior's protectiveness towards his charge, and Eucalyptus had proposed that they travel the rest of the way together.

Pitch Black was hunting as well, after all, hunting for the Lunanoffs in order to destroy whatever light remained of the Golden Age. Doubtless he’d also be more than happy to pick off any Pookas he might run into.

“There’s someone waiting for me on the other end,” Eucalyptus explained with determination. Realising immediately afterwards that he’d forgotten himself in his enthusiasm, he clarified: “Well, not literally waiting, but he’s my goal.”

Nightlight hummed in thought. It was a familiar sound to Eucalyptus by now, as Nightlight preferred to express himself directly through emotional output rather than his words. Still, the warrior did speak out: “My goal is fulfilling my duty.”

“Same here,” Eucalyptus insisted. “I made him a promise. I promised to keep him safe and to find him again.” He wasn’t sure if Jackfruit had understood the significance of that first promise, but he’d still follow through. As for the second promise, Eucalyptus couldn’t even be certain that Jackfruit had _heard_ , let alone understood what Eucalyptus meant by it.

“I knew that to Pookas your word is your bond. Regardless, you’re very kind.” Nightlight smiled.

Eucalyptus huffed. He’d never much cared for people heaping praise on him. Still, it was preferable to the verbal abuse he’d heard growing up. Really, he’d rather just avoid most people all together, as he considered social interaction a chore. Although there were exceptions; his best friend Wattle was kind enough, his sister Violet was understanding enough and his oldest sibling Thyme had always been unassuming enough to not expect much of Eucalyptus. In fact, Nightlight reminded Eucalyptus quite the bit of Thyme.

Sometimes, though, he wondered if he wouldn’t mind trying a bit harder for Jackfruit.

“It’s not just because it was a promise,” Eucalyptus clarified. “He’s important to me. He probably doesn’t even know it, but he’s inspiring to me.” He’d heard all about it at the Academy, about how Jackfruit always stood up for those weaker than himself, but kept flunking his leadership classes. Raised in a military-minded environment, Eucalyptus had marvelled at the respect Jackfruit tended to get from his fellow cadets due to simply being a good person. Even Nasturtium, and old friend of Eucalyptus’ mother and someone Eucalyptus had always looked up to, had once spoken the terse good word over Jackfruit’s diligence and determination. How could Eucalyptus _not_ be impressed?

“Let’s make sure, then,” Nightlight spoke softly, bringing Eucalyptus back from his musings. The softly glowing warrior smiled warmly at Eucalyptus. “Let’s make sure you find your important person.”

“His name’s Jackfruit,” Eucalyptus confessed, because he really did appreciate Nightlight’s support and wanted his fresh new acquaintance to know as much. “Maybe ‘Jack’, if I’ll ever get to be upfront with him.”

It would be nice, to even get to be a good enough friend to Jackfruit to be allowed to call him ‘Jack’. And maybe Jackfruit could return the favour, and use the name only Eucalyptus’ nearest and dearest called him? Eucalyptus was sure that he wouldn’t mind being called ‘Euca’ by Jackfruit.

Before the entire space could light up in shades of pink over those rather personal thoughts, Eucalyptus forced himself to focus on the task at hand. His first priority was to hunt down every single Fearling still left. Eucalyptus wouldn’t let them take anyone else from him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Euca is so socially deprived, he thinks it's a huge deal that Nightlight would ask him about himself and be willing to listen.


	3. Healing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aster heals a field ruined by battle, while also needing to do some healing of his own.

Kneeling on a ruined field, Aster focused. On his inhale, he felt for his core, and on the exhale he pulled out some of the magic that was tucked away there. Life spread from within him, and around from his location, and the yellowed grass grew green once more.

Aster had never been a healer back home, nor had he ever been a farmer. The things he could now do were abilities he hadn't had as Eucalyptus. Still, there had been a time when he'd wished he could feel plants.

It all came down to Jackfruit. **Doesn't it always?** Aster had seen him once, twice, rather often actually, in the Academy garden, touching the plants and making them look more vibrant. One time Aster had even attempted to sneak closer to see the magic better and had gotten a wallop on his nose for his trouble.

Whether Aster had been looking at Jackfruit or the plants was beside the point. What really mattered was what the image had stuck with him, all the way to Earth, where he'd first had the chance to try something new.

Aster had never attempted to make anything grow when he'd still been what he was before. Aster had no way of knowing if he would have succeeded back when he first saw Jackfruit use magic on plants. The Aster on Earth was much stronger in magic than Eucalyptus could have ever been.

The strength present Aster held made itself known then. Varied plants started growing to join the grass, the field slowly leaving behind the image of devastation.

**It doesn't matter how pretty you make them.** The pale violet crocuses withered under Aster's hands, the delicate blooms not able to withstand how cold the spring still was. **You will never see him again.** Aster flinched when a thorny shrub sprouted the moment his focus shattered.

The plants he grew weren't attached to his emotions, per se, but they did take their cues from his state of mind. Plants that were more resolute on their own, wildflowers, weeds and the like, only needed Aster's magic to start growing, not needing any concentration to direct them. More delicate flowers, however, called for serenity.

"It's amazing," a voice spoke softly, and Aster turned his head to see Queen Toothiana beside him, her gossamer wings keeping her off the fresh grass. "You truly have a gift, Aster." The fairy turned away from the field and smiled as Aster. "This place used to look so dead."

Some magics were worse than those which simply destroyed. The magics that _stole_ were truly the ones to watch out for. Undoing thievery wasn't exactly what Aster had expected to be doing for the Guardians once he had signed up officially. Even so, Aster did consider it a personal duty to undo whatever damage Imma had caused as she'd gone around attempting to steal life, especially since all life on Earth was Aster's to safeguard.

Still, Aster hadn't expected Toothiana to seek him out when he was working. Toothiana was the Guardian making the most effort to be friendly. Aster and Sanderson had an understanding and, while they missed the same things, they didn't talk much. Sanderson might not have been capable of verbal speech, but there were other methods of communication that the Star knew how to employ and the Pooka knew how to decipher.

Aster didn't think he'd ever get along with St. North, however.

"Nature's going to do the real miracle of healing on its own," Aster spoke softly, watching his voice and tone, as he could hardly remember how to hold a conversation anymore. "I simply gave it something to start from."

"I think I just enjoy new beginnings," Toothiana said wistfully, giving Aster a smile that was so wide it wrinkled her eyes in a way no Pookan eyes would have but was apparently a signal of sincerity with her face type. "I truly am glad you joined us, Aster." The fairy reached out slowly, giving Aster the chance to retreat. Aster allowed her to touch his arm companionably.

"I know what it's like to be lonely like you were. I lost everything once, too," Toothiana said quietly, speaking her words in the solemn privacy between two people who'd fought together and won together. "But ever since you came along, I haven't felt so alone anymore. "

There was warmth in Aster's core. He glanced over to the shrub he'd created, and saw that small flower buds had formed.

"Early season for rose blooms, isn't it?" Toothiana commented.

Aster smiled. "I think it's fine," he insisted gently. "Spring is here, after all."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aster insists that he'll never get along with North. Compare to 'Finding Pieces of a Life' where he nuzzles him right alongside the others. Hahaha.
> 
> And now people are going to start speculating about who Imma is and whether or not I'd be wicked enough to introduce a big new villain in an aside in a side story.


	4. High

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aster briefly contemplates his dislike for social standing, and apparently has a good, if weird, reason for his fear of heights.
> 
> Actually, Aster just makes a friend here.

There were many things you learned growing up as a child of Edelweiss Bunnymund. More than that, there were many things what were _taught_ to you if you had the mark of the heir, the name ‘Aster’. As such, Both Eucalyptus and Violet had been raised under the very strict tutelage of several warriors, strategists and tacticians, all experts in their respective fields. The twins had learned to wield several different kinds of weapons and to recognize patterns both on and off the battlefield. It was all in an effort to make them as much like their mother as possible.

There were also personality attributes that were valued by Eucalyptus’ tutors. Diligence, self-sacrifice, confidence tempered by humility, and patience were all aspects that had made Edelweiss very admired. In his long years of life, however, Aster had never truly mastered the ‘patience’ part of the equation.

Patience and self-control, the harsh discipline Edelweiss had held over her own emotions wasn’t something Aster was very adept at. He was stubborn, he was serious, he was sullen and short-tempered. All in all, it was a combination that made discipline near impossible.

Regardless, it was drilled into Eucalyptus from early age that he should at least _try_ to contain himself. So, he regularly meditated, no matter how useless the exercise seemed sometimes. Practise at least wouldn’t make his disposition worse, even if it didn’t improve it exactly.

No matter his difficulties in the area, Aster at least had some desire to be more composed. His grandfather had also espoused the virtues of the Bunnymund line to Eucalyptus, insisting that it was their position in society to look down on others from their own high position. Even as Eucalyptus Aster had never subscribed to that life philosophy, much like how his mother had once completely rejected it. The somewhat hopeless pursuit of a composed disposition was a much more worthy goal to Aster.

Maintaining a composed disposition was made especially hard by young, presumptuous spirits coming after him when he was trying to meditate, full of righteous anger over sympathetic magic messing up her end of the connection. Aster had travelled the long way to the deep, dark reaches of _Hercynia Silva_ just so that he could be alone, so the interruption was very much unwelcome.

"I came all the way here because your magic tugged at mine!" Ostara roared, her bright red hair flaring like flames. "Just who are you?"

Eucalyptus would have most likely just muttered uncomplimentary things at the other spirit, maybe tossed her over his shoulder if she turned violent. Aster, however, had come too far from there, had lost too much and was too far gone to not lash out with all of his pain.

"I'm the source of all life on this planet," the Pooka snarled, voice just short of a shout. "The only reason you _have_ magic is because I allow it."

"I want to know what pantheon you belong to!" Ostara snapped. "Who do you answer to, you would-be god?"

"I answer to no one," Aster growled. "Do you think I speak in metaphors? Maybe I should show you?" With that Aster placed a hand over his chest and pulled. In the once-empty space within his chest something moved and responded to the gesture.

The flash of what was at the core of him didn't last for more than a second. There was no need for anything more and more would have been dangerous anyway. No amount of staring would help anyone understand what they were looking at. It was tucked away instantly afterwards, safe from everything and keeping everything safe from it.

Ostara's eyes were wide in amazement. She had never seen the magic that Aster held within him before, probably had never seen anything even remotely _like_ it, but she still understood. She shook.

Aster briefly glanced at the surrounding plant life. It would never be the same after that brief touch of oldest magic. The trees had shot up considerably in height and would most likely never wither. The grass was rich and there were flowers blooming all over. No magically untouched human could ever see this place, let alone walk into it. There was a brief flash of regret as Aster turned back to Ostara, wondering he'd changed _her_ too.

The magic inside him was potent; it had changed Aster the instant it had been placed inside him. The stark difference with what he once was served as the primary reason for Aster's decision to abandon his birth name.

"I'm everything, yet I'm nothing," Aster said softly. "I'm just a hollow vessel for the magic of life." Aster wondered, if the weight of his experiences took over his words and tone, but he couldn't judge such things well, as he spent most of his time underground inside his Warren, building it or resting. He'd only recently, within the last few centuries, grown curious of the world that had come into being while he'd been hidden away. Most likely his excursions had caused the magical fluctuations Ostara had sensed.

The magic inside Aster yearned for high locations from which Aster could view the life it had generated. That was why he'd come here, to these highlands, but it still wasn't enough. Sometimes Aster feared that the magic would cause him to float off the earth surface and start drifting towards the space the light had come from. It was a strange fear to have, but sometimes Aster felt it would take only a small push off the ground to send him reeling upwards, never to come down again.

"I'm just an instrument for the magic to work through," Aster spoke. It was rather what he felt like, sometimes.

Ostara shook her head. "I don't think so," she said. The shook her head again, this time at herself. "I mean, I get what you were saying before, about being the source of life, I saw it inside you, but I don't think the life is all you are." The redhead smirked. "You're clearly too much of a spitfire to be completely under the direction of some ancient magic."

Aster considered the words. Just now, he'd been very careless in unleashing the magic inside himself, no matter how briefly. Perhaps there was still some Pooka left in him, after all.

"Why would someone as powerful as you let someone else get so much power over spring, anyway?" Ostara asked then. "I mean, clearly you're the best spirit for the status of harbinger of spring."

"It's a lot of work, isn't it?" Aster admitted, and chuckled. Oh, he hadn't even realized that motive before. He'd used to be so tireless and diligent, and now he was growing as lazy as his mother could sometimes be. The harder you worked, the harder you fell, and Aster had been working hard.

"Don't say more," Ostara spoke. "I can tell you're tired." The spirit smiled. "Very well, I'll do it."

Aster was surprised by the easy compliance. "I was under the impression you'd rather not have us connected."

Ostara gave him a knowing look. "When I say I can tell you're tired, I mean it without a doubt." The female spirit spread her hands in a nonthreatening gesture. "I can read minds, some, and what I read in yours suggests you might need a champion."

"The fact that I'm separate from you doesn't mean I'm above you," Aster rebuffed gently, not wanting to insult someone willing to do him a favour. "I don't require championing."

"I know." Ostara grinned at Aster. "That's what makes me want to help you out."

There wasn't much Aster could say to that. Perhaps it would be better to have an ally in this new world, if he was to become a part of it again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm scattering some clues to what's inside Bunny instead of a heart before I update the main storyline again. Let's see who guesses it.
> 
> Also, the Hercynia Silva, aka the Hercynian Forest has showed up in the main story too. Indeed, Bunny revealing his core there left a mark.


	5. Hurt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something was stolen from Aster long ago, and the wound still hasn't healed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, read Chapter 34 of Finding Pieces of a Life before this. SPOILER ALERT.

Aster was selective over his space. Of course he was, he'd grown up with a twin sister and a plethora of older siblings who'd always been raised to know that they were Bunnymunds, and what it exactly meant to _be_ a Bunnymund. So Aster had grown up in a house full of self-important adolescent Pookas who couldn't stand that he had something they didn't: their mother's name.

Violet had been as Aster as well, Violet Aster Bunnymund, born identical to Aster in every single way, they'd both been equally eligible to become the Hope of the People after their mother retired. Technically she'd already retired once, but once her family had caught up with her, they'd convinced her that she owed them a proper heir after all that "eloping business" (Aster often heard his grandfather, old crotchety Callistemon, refer to his mother's attempt at rebellion as such). That was how Aster and Violet had been born, their genes manipulated with Pookan magical sciences to make sure they inherited all of their mother's best aptitudes.

With those aptitudes in place, the clan had placed their demands on Aster and Violet since they'd been born. Fortunately for Callistemon, Aster and Violet had indeed had the required aptitude for extensive combat and military training. Unfortunately for him, Edelweiss' weakness for giving in to her family was not genetic, and so Aster and Violet had both rebelled in their own ways.

Aster's own rebellion had never born much fruit, as he still eventually found himself in the Pookan Battle Academy, and later even taking on the mantle of the Hope of the People. In the end, Aster's entire life path had been forced on him by people who didn't respect his boundaries. Even his first name had been chosen by Callistemon.

It was only after he'd arrived on Earth that Aster experienced true freedom, and it had frightened him in how final and extreme it had been. He had gained freedom because every single person who might have invaded his identity or who he might have owed something to was gone, dead to Pitch Black and his Fearlings. Naturally, Aster hadn't used that freedom for much. He'd simply built himself a place to keep all of the baggage and debt, and he'd spent millennia in apathy.

Then had come the Guardians, to ask for his help to battle an enemy. They'd invaded his Warren, the cavern he'd shaped as the innermost sanctum where he could _rest_ , and they'd attempted to tell him what to do. The girl with them, Katherine, had finally convinced him it was worth something to move on. The Snow Queen, as the masses called her, was bringing forth an eternal winter that would threaten to kill all life on Earth, all the life Aster was connected to. An invasion of Aster's space. He'd agreed to leave his sanctuary.

Aster had allowed someone inside his space, once. Imma had been lovely, ethereal, as integral to the surrounding world as Aster himself. She'd also been lonely, worn down and apathetic towards the way the world turned. Aster had left himself vulnerable for her, just for the sake of having someone who understood.

It was only much later that Aster realised that simply because they were similar didn't mean that they were _good_ for each other. Imma didn't care about the world, and she hadn't seen a reason to make Aster an exception to that rule. Imma had taken a hold of Aster's heart and attempted to change it, make it hers. The fact that Aster was still around was proof that she'd failed, but she'd left him bruised up and broken. She'd yanked the ability to love right out of him.

That was why, when Aster allowed Jack into his space, he didn't even consider it might be because of love. He could feel comradeship, Imma hadn't been interested in that. But adoration, the type he'd once held for _another_ "Jack", that was what she'd wanted.

That was why, when Jack smiled at Aster, Aster despaired. Because if Jack loved Aster, he'd only end up hurt. Aster couldn't feel love himself, and he feared what kind of hurt he'd leave behind with his inability to care properly.

That was why, when Aster felt Jack's affection for him, he feared. No matter how much Aster considered Jack a friend, he couldn't return anything deeper than that.

Some hurts wouldn't heal. Magics that stole were truly the worst of the bunch and not all things that were stolen could be returned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Callistemon](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Callistemon) is a myrtle genus plant native to Australia, much like many species of Eucalyptus.


	6. Happiness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aster's curse makes him incapable of experiencing love. But he comes pretty darn close.

They say you don’t know what you have until it’s gone. Aster had never had trouble appreciating what he had. His problem was the opposite. He didn’t tend to notice his shackles until he shook them off.

It was only in the utter isolation that Earth offered that Aster understood just how _stifling_ living among the Pookas had been for him. The burden of being the perfect heir in his family's eyes, the struggle to be the best he could be, the endless effort that went with living up to the high expectations and praise he received, all of that was gone here. There were no Pookas to expect things of him, to need him or to praise him.

There were no Pookas left, so Aster didn't have to fight against every fibre of his being wanting to say 'no' to the life Pookan kind expected him to lead. Aster knew how hard such a life was to escape; his mother had tried to run away, but had returned in the end. To have the structures that made up that life removed, that was the truest freedom Aster had ever felt.

And it had come at the expense of losing his entire people, everyone he'd ever cared about or dedicated his life to.

Understandably Aster crumbled under the weight of that freedom, when it was to enshrouded in guilt. How could he be _happy_ when he was also in such insurmountable agony?

Happiness, for Aster, had always held a bittersweet tang. As such, he wasn't surprised when those feelings came again, even though with less existential angst.

Jack made Aster happy. Just being around Jack filled Aster with more profound contentment than Aster could receive simply by working his beloved garden or creating art. Aster tended to forget how much he enjoyed contact whenever he was without it for long, becoming difficult to communicate with and surly. But Jack was ready and willing to provide Aster with the company he unconsciously craved, and Aster truly felt happy near his friend.

Jack also made Aster despair. Jack was a _Pooka_ , and so Aster couldn't help but fear, sometimes, that he might have demands of Aster, that Jack might require him to be someone he hadn't been in so long, be someone he'd never been ('Hope of the People' had always been a title Aster despised).

Aster thought seeing Jack as a Pooka would hurt. But, to be perfectly honest, in Aster's eyes Jack was Jack was Jackie. It was confused and strange, but it filled Aster with a sense of lightness that, for once, didn't have him fearing he might disappear into the atmosphere. It didn't matter what features Jack wore, his presence held that same warm, welcoming comfort.

Even with how happy Jack could make Aster, there was still that bitter sweetness to it. That happiness, so profound yet gentle, made him very aware of the hole, like a gaping maw, inside his soul. He was aware of that dark spot of nothing there but emptiness, where his little piece of Despair resided.

The Despair didn't intrude when Aster was with Jack, but it crept in whenever the winter spirit was gone, settling in his chest like a lump of ice.

Jack wasn't cold to Aster, could never be, when he was warmth and Fun and happiness. Nothing could compare with how cold Despair could get.

But the Despair would be clamped down on the moment Jack came back again, overwhelmed by joy. And when Aster pressed his face against Jack's chest, Jack brought his hands up to pet Aster's ears just the way Aster liked. It was to be expected, as Jack's Pooka form had similar Field Pooka ears that were perfect to grab at the base.

Jack hadn't even needed that special skill to make Aster happy in the first place. Just being _Jack_ had been enough.


	7. Admiring from Afar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jackfruit apparently had a fanclub. How did that happen?

Eucalyptus briefly wondered if he was developing a worrying habit as he listened to Bluebell chatter in his excitable voice about how Jackfruit had rescued him from some bullies again. Hazing was actually quite common in the Pooka Battle Academy, almost to the degree of being a problem, so there really was no shortage of these sorts of stories, especially since Jackfruit seemed to have made it his personal quest to fight it all alone.

The worrying habit Eucalyptus had was looking up any and all stories of Jackfruit rescuing someone. And since there were quite the few of those stories, people had noticed a pattern of Eucalyptus showing interest in bully victims. Of course, the conclusions they came to over said pattern varied, and were often very inaccurate.

"You're really kind to worry about people so much," Bluebell finally said after finishing his story, causing Eucalyptus to jump.

"Wh-wha-ah. Thanks," the blue Pooka managed to barely stutter out. There was no way he'd come out and say that he mostly just wanted to hear about Jackfruit. He wasn't some denmother who worried over things that were over and done with. He could see with his own eyes that Bluebell was fine.

Never mind that Eucalyptus had been taught that his concern for others shouldn't really go past them being in immediate danger. He was supposed to grow up into a protector, not a coddler.

Maybe that was why Eucalyptus was so fascinated by Jackfruit. All his life, Eucalyptus had been taught that it was his _duty_ to protect anyone who needed it. One day he'd be the Hope of the People, and it would fall on him to protect all Pookan kind. There would be no time for personal investment in something like that.

Jackfruit was personally invested, however. Eucalyptus often heard the white Pooka argue with Wattle in the infirmary, about how the very existence of bullies was personally offensive to him. He didn't care if he was outmatched sometimes as long as he could do some good. It would be worth it if he could help one person.

Eucalyptus had never been taught that there could be worth in sacrifice. All his life, Eucalyptus had been taught that he was _supposed_ to be willing to lay his own life down for any other member of the Pookan race. He was worthless if he didn't exist to protect others, so he deserved no returned favors or even thanks. He was simply supposed to do his job, because every other Pooka was worth more than he was.

Jackfruit was worth more than Eucalyptus was, and yet he was willing to let himself get hurt. Even more so, he'd gotten mad when Eucalyptus had tried to cut in, that first time he'd witnessed it. He'd called Eucalyptus a 'naive freshman with no right to act so condescending'. Jackfruit had neither wanted nor needed Eucalyptus to protect him.

All in all, Jackfruit made Eucalyptus believe that maybe the world didn't need him as much as he'd been led to believe. Maybe Pookan kind _could_ take care of itself for the most part, without a need for constant vigilance on Eucalyptus' part. It was a bright thought, a warm, hopeful one, that maybe Eucalyptus could live his life normally, at least sometimes.  
"You know, Euca, if you put together a Jackfruit Fanclub, you'd get to hear all this stuff firsthand," Wattle's voice commented as soon as Bluebell was gone. "Then the stories would come to you instead of you chasing them."

Eucalyptus turned to give his best friend a flat look. "Oh yes," the blue Pooka drawled sarcastically. "It even has a nice ring to it: Eucalyptus Bunnymund, Chairman of the Jackfruit Fanclub."

"What, really?" a new voice screeched and Eucalyptus' face froze in horror as he slowly turned to look at a short, light brown Pooka. "There's a Jackfruit Fanclub? I know a lot of people who'd _really_ like joining." The Pooka smiled widely at Eucalyptus. "That's okay, right, Eucalyptus?"

Scowling for a bit, Eucalyptus wondered where he'd seen this Pooka before. Then it clicked. Salvia was one of the information officers in training.

No one gossiped as much as information officers did. Eucalyptus knew he was sunk.

By lunch that same day, Jackfruit Fanclub would be a real thing, instead of an offhand joke Wattle had made.

 

* * *

 

Sage's ears perked up when he spotted a familiar blue tint to a pair of ears passing by. "Hey, Eucalyptus," he called, raising a hand even though he knew Eucalyptus probably couldn't see it over all the people. Even so, the other Pooka could follow his voice just fine and broke through the crowd in front of Sage just fine. The short Pooka looked rather harangued, and Sage could guess why.

The brown Pooka gave his companion a friendly but concerned smile. "Are you okay, you seem kinda rattled?"

Eucalyptus heaved a large sigh, shook his head, and gave Sage a dark look. "Oh, you have no idea," the shorter Pooka grumbled. "Apparently, club presidency is hard work."

"Ah, right." Sage lifted a hand to hide his amused grin. "I'd heard about that." He and Eucalyptus knew each other loosely, so Sage didn't think he had the privilege to laugh in his face. "How _is_ your Jackfruit Fanclub coming along?"

"Ugh." Eucalyptus gave Sage a defeated look. "The formation of that club was an _accident_ , a joke, and now I have to actually go through with it because the wrong person heard."

"Right, Salvia." Sage lowered his hand. "I bet if you hadn't agreed to put this thing together, she'd have done it."

"She practically _did_ do it," Eucalyptus sneered. "By forcing _me_ to do it." His shoulders slumped as he sighed. "I need to learn to say 'no' to people." The last words were mumbled into Eucalyptus' uniform collar.

Sage smirked. "So, if I asked you out, you'd agree?"

Eucalyptus jumped, before shooting Sage a suspicious look.

Sage raised his hands in a disarming gesture. "Just a joke, forget it." The brown Pooka crossed his arms. "I just wanted to make sure you were fine; Salvia can be a real slave driver."

"I'm fine." Eucalyptus waved a hand dismissively. He reached up to tug on his ear as he smiled up at Sage, the expression barely touching his features. "Thanks, though." Eucalyptus straightened himself. "I have a private tutoring session with Nasturtium. I'll see you later."

"Sure thing." Sage smiled as Eucalyptus turned around and hurried off. The expression fell as soon as Eucalyptus was out of sight.

"Of all the things," Sage murmured with a sigh. "Seriously, Jackfruit, he's wasted on you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn it, this was supposed to be a completely light-hearted fluffpiece, but then I hit the motherload when I accidentally bumped into the core of Euca's self-esteem issues.
> 
> Also, it's a real shame when you create all sorts of headcanons for your OCs in order to write them consistently, only to never really get to use the material properly. Yes, Sage was very much into Eucalyptus, but never acted on it because of his friendship with Jack.


End file.
